


Lost Cause

by Kaepore



Category: Original Work
Genre: A letter to a rapist, Eating Disorders, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Proceed with caution if rape and suicide trigger you!, Rape, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaepore/pseuds/Kaepore
Summary: Dear Anthony,It all started with you.





	Lost Cause

**Author's Note:**

> Please DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO RAPE, SUICIDE OR MENTIONS OF EATING DISORDERS. THIS IS A FICTIONAL WORK. NONE OF THE CHARACTERS ARE REAL.

Dear Anthony,

I remember the night your parents brought me home. 

I was only 7 years old.

You were more excited than I was. You had waited on the porch for 3 hours for our arrival. You ran to the car, more importantly, me.

You practically dragged me into the house. Taking me straight to my room. It was painted a royal blue with black shag carpeting. I can still remember how it feels. 

You told me that we could change it up once I get settled in. That made me happy. You treated me like family, even though I had only been there for 5 minutes.

On the way home from the agency your parents told me so much about you. You begged your parents for a younger brother for years. your parents loved the idea. Only to realize your mother was no longer able to have children. They tried for years but no luck.

Your 16th birthday hit and here I was. For you. A younger brother. Oh, how happy you were. 

We did everything together. You helped me with school, making friends and spent most of your time with me. Even when your friends were over, you insisted I hang out with you guys. 

I loved soaking up the attention that you gave me and the attention from your friends. You always took notice of that so that you could continue to do it.

Then, my 8th birthday came. You planned a huge party. You invited so many people. Your friends came, along with some that I had made. There wasn't many of them, but the amount I had was good enough for me. 

Your mom told me you had made sure everything was perfect enough for me. Even though just your guys and a cake was enough for me.

The party was amazing. I had never had more fun in my life, I will say. But the day after the party was a nightmare.

At the time, I had no idea what you were trying to do. But it happened and I will never forget it.

Your parents went out for dinner and you thought it was the perfect time to act your plan. 

You told me you wanted to play video games. I believed it. I was so excited to play the new game you bought me. 

But you laid me down. I still remember how soft your sheets where. They had all the planets printed on them with a black/blue galaxy surrounding them.

You kissed me. It wasn't like the kiss that your mom usually gave me, which were on the cheek, but a kiss that your parents would share.

It was confusing for me. We weren't married, or even in the slightest way connected. I pushed you away but you insisted that it was okay. I still felt unusual doing it but I went along. 

Your lips were soft. You had one of your hands cupping my face, your thumb was stroking my cheekbone. Your other was holding onto the back of my thigh. One knee was placed between my thighs to keep yourself up. 

Your fingers curled around the hem of my shirt, pulling it up as an attempt to tell me to take it off. I told you no. Then I was told to trust you. And I did. I silently took it off. Feeling self-conscious as you stared at me. You took notice and your shirt as well came off. 

You went for my sweatpants next. You took your time with them. I let out a breath as my legs slipped out. Your hands slid up and down my legs. your palms were rough, but your fingertips were soft. 

My heart started racing as you went for my boxers. My quiet protests were cut off by you pressing your lips to mine again. Then they came off. Yours followed soon after. 

You rolled something that was a light color of blue, covered in slimy liquid onto yourself. I had no idea what it was then, but I do now. You then covered your fingers with another liquid. They went somewhere I'd rather not say. But you can guess where. 

And I thought that hurt but boy was I wrong. As you replaced your fingers with the blue, and I couldn't see straight. Tears collected in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. You told me it wouldn't hurt after your fingers. I didn't know what to say.

I asked you to stop but you said It gets better after a few minutes. It didn't. It hurt the entire time. You held down my arms so I wouldn't fight with you, even though it wouldn't be much of one. After a while, you shifted and I felt something wet. That made the sheets stick to me.

You had long removed your hands from my wrists, which had red fingerprints imprinted on them. I moved my hand down to where it was wet. My eye's widened when I saw the blood. I cried even more than before. I apologize over and over for ruining the sheets on your bed. You told me it was ok. 

I asked why I was bleeding. You told me it was normal to bleed your first time. First time? First time what? First time making love, is what you told me. Love. Is this what your parents did when they were alone in their room? I asked if you loved me. You said you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't.

I believed that. Rape wasn't a word in my vocabulary at the age of 8. Neither was sex. I grew up to believe that rape wasn't a real thing. Just made up to get other people in trouble when they regret making love with people they thought they loved. I mean, it was what you told me... right?

When it was over, weird noises came from your mouth. Louder and more strangled than the ones you made while it happened. You carried me to the bathroom because I was unable to stand on my own. It hurt too much to move at all. You cleaned me off, got rid of the blood and everything. You made me promise not to tell your parents. Or you could get in trouble. I didn't want that for you. 

Things changed between us after that. We didn't talk. Or hang out anymore. Your friends gave me weird looks when they came over and watched me lay motionless on the couch, staring at the wall, trying to rid my head of the thoughts of what happened. 

One asked me if I was okay. It was Chase. Didn't you tell him? Did the rest know? Did they know what terrifying you did to me just days before? All I told him was that you and I are no longer friends. Just 'brothers'. You got mad at me when you caught wind of that. 

You yanked me into your room, shoved a finger in my face. Told me that I am not allowed to make decisions like that. It hurt your feelings. I could tell. I nodded and apologized. I asked if you told them. 

One of them knew. It was the one that questioned me. I knew that he knew something. His eyes told me everything. I was still not allowed to tell anyone. I understood. Nothing else. Just to keep my mouth shut about it.

Your parents ended up finding out. He told them. I asked him to. You thought it was me. You lashed out. Tore the house apart in a rage. Screaming about how you were the victim and that it was a lie then he and I made up. 

Your parents took me back to the agency. They told them that there was too much conflict going on in the family to foster a child. It was true but sad that they left out that huge detail. I still miss you so much.

Then, there was Tyson.

A few foster homes later, I ended up finding my biological mother less than a year later and I live with her now. Living with her has been a good thing for me. I feel at home with her, more than I ever did with you.

He was one of the junkies my Stepfather was friends with. He was 25. And he had eyes for me ever since they brought me home. Somehow, my parents never knew he was a junkie. He hid it well. I never told them about it. Until now.

It all started with the staring.

We would sit opposite from each other at the dinner table. He would sit there and stare as I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The slightest smirk on his face every time. I thought nothing of it. It went on for years until I turned 14. 

Then it was touching. Non-sexual of course... at first. He would hug me longer than usual. He would place his hand on my knee, long enough for it to seem suggestive, then let go. Or he would stand too close to me in the kitchen or just in general.

The sexual contact started when I was 15. He would wait for the perfect time. When I would load the dishwasher after dinner, and everyone has been tucked away in their rooms or sitting in the living room, there he was. 

Pressed up against me his hand sliding up my upper thigh. "Only two more years" he would whisper in my ear. Then his hand would linger on my ass. I tried to ignore him but it never worked. 

He always found new ways to get under my skin. 

I would stand on my toes to get a glass out of the cabinet. His hand would reach for my ass, then the glass falls through my fingers. 

A lie slips through my lips to my mother of what happened. He smirks at me as I clean up the mess. 

Being 17 was a nightmare. One day parents and my siblings had gone out to do their own things. He and I were left alone. I was standing at the sink. Staring out at the backyard. I hadn't noticed his reflection in the glass before it was too late.

I felt my arms being pinned against my back. He shoved my head down and my forehead hit the edge of the sink. 

"Don't worry. Daddy will take care of you." Take care. My first thought was that he was going to kill me. The more I thrashed to get away, the more I slammed my head against the sink. 

He grabbed a fist full of my hair and yanked my head back. Told me "The more you fight, the more I'll hurt you." My mind blanked. Would he really? I felt his hand slide into the front of my pajama pants. He started groping me and kissing the back of my neck. 

I could feel him through his jeans and I clenched my eye shut. I ask him why he had to do it. "Cause you're asking for it" Was I? I never thought I was. It was more like he was asking for it. 

My pajama pants were lowered. I froze. I tried to fight against him. I begged repeatedly but to avail. He had full control and no matter what, I could do nothing. 

I stared down the sink drain as his belt jingled and his pants fell to his ankles. I could hear the drip of my tears on the cold metal.

It lasted longer than I had hoped. I quietly begged for him to stop but the more I talked the deeper his nails would dig into my wrists. 

As he finished, he gripped my hair and yanked my head back. "I'll slice your throat open if you tell anyone" That was it.

An old habit of mine ended up surfacing when he was done. He left the kitchen, and i was alone. I forced my trembling fingers down my throat. I felt oddly satisfied at the feeling of bile coming from my mouth. I felt clean in a way. But not clean enough. Never clean enough.

My mom ended up finding out. she's good at reading people. "Karter what happened." I felt my stomach drop when she asked me. I had no idea how I was going to explain this to her. 

I tried to lie to her but she caught it. So, I told her. And she cried. As well did I. Again.

I told her I would think about taking it to the police. I feared that since I was a male, it would be harder to believe and I would have to live with the fact that my Rapist was out in the world. Even though I was left with that feeling every single day.

I thought I could get over this. I thought that after a few days that I would feel better and get my life back. As usual. But I didn't

I had cut open my arm with an Exacto knife I stole from the art room in a bathroom stall the next day. The blood seeped into my clothes. The pain felt amazing. Until I passed out. 

I opened my eyes to find myself being placed onto a stretcher. A classmate of mine was watching, covered in my blood. I then realized never took a shower after what happened, but I passed out again before I could say anything. 

The doctors had stitched up my arm. Gauze was thickly wrapped around my arm. I faintly heard my mom whispering with the doctor. She was telling her what happened. 

"Karter, we are going to have to remove your clothes." I panicked. I felt one of the doctors place a hand on my leg and tell me it will be alright. My mother said she would be in the room.

I still refused. They had to hold me down. The anesthesia took a matter of seconds to work. I woke up to my mother holding my hand. She apologized for what they did. It wasn't her fault. 

I understood. 

We took the douche bag to trial by the way. Rape and drug charges. He won't get out for a long time. Hopefully, he rots in there. I wish you were there with him. 

3 months after that, I sat down and told my mother about you. She looked at me with pain and sorrow in her eyes. I hated it. I told her I still think of you all the time. I still miss you every second of the day. 

Maybe one day we can see each other again. Hopefully, when we do, it's at your funeral. 

~Yours Truly, Karter A. Legends.~


End file.
